


A Matter of Trust

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: BAMF Nightingale, Canon Relationships, Fandom Stocking 2017, Friendship, Gen, Hero Worship, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 07:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13336152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: Nightingale's protections extend to all, including Varvara.





	A Matter of Trust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hamsterwoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamsterwoman/gifts).



> Written for hamsterwoman at dreamwidth's fandom_stocking. Includes brief allusions to events in the comics.

It wasn't as if it wasn't obvious but in my defence I had had a hell of a year and there was only so much information I could take in at any given time and magic and police work had to take priority. And it wasn't as if she was being particularly subtle about it – Varvara had practically had hearts in her eyes from the minute she'd seen Nightingale demolish a building.

It wasn't until Molly started feeding Varvara cold coffee and dry toast though that I began to focus on what was going on inside the Folly instead of worrying about what was happening outside.

* * * *

Nightingale was sitting at the desk in the library going over his notes – planning my next lesson by the look of it – when I decided to try and gauge Nightingale's impression of what was going on.

“Have you got a moment?” I asked him, waiting until he'd apparently finished a thought.

“Oh, Peter, I didn't see you there. Yes, of course.” He pushed his chair back from the desk and motioned for me to grab the seat next to him. “What's troubling you?”

“I was just wondering what your plans for Varvara were? She really should be back in prison by now.”

“I was planning on returning her tomorrow,” he said. He indicated the notes he'd been making. “She's actually providing some very interesting information about the Night Witches that Postmartin has been pestering me about ever since he learnt of her existence.” He looked pointedly at me then and I shifted in my seat – I may or may not have had something to do with that.

“Right. But uh, what about in the long term? I mean she's a big fan of yours.”

Nightingale has the somewhat unnerving ability to see right through me sometimes, it's an alarming trait he shares with Beverley and my mother.

“Are you concerned about Varvara's intentions towards me or mine to Varvara's?” he asked, clearly amused.

“I'm just - “ I stopped. I wasn't quite sure what I was just doing, they were both adults and well, presumably Nightingale knew about the birds and the bees.

“Peter, Varvara is under my protection, just as you are. There is nothing more to it.” He paused and looked enquiringly at me, “and I think some practice will do you good. I have a new forma I wanted to show you anyway.”

* * * *

We'd barely started on our lesson when I noticed Varvara and Molly standing in the doorway. They were standing as far away from each other as they could whilst still having a clear view of Nightingale as he went through the forma with me, a twist on the fireball spell I was just about getting the hang of. As usual Nightingale's aim was much more accurate than mine.

“Your accuracy is phenomenal,” Varvara gushed, and if I didn't know better I'd say that Nightingale actually flushed a little.

“It's Peter's accuracy I'm more concerned about,” Nightingale said, coughing to cover his evident embarrassment.

“Perhaps you could show me a few more moves?” I asked and by the way he glared at me he knew exactly what I was doing.

“I don't think an audience will do you any good,” he said. “Ladies, perhaps a cup of tea is in order while Peter practices?”

Molly left first, pleased as she always was at watching Nightingale perform magic and then Varvara took Nightingale's arm in hers and walked him upstairs.

It took a good ten minutes before I could get a hold of myself well enough to carry on practising.

* * * * *

When I'd done my quota of magical practice for the day I headed upstairs and found Varvara and Nightingale poring over an old map of Western Europe. Neither of them appeared to notice my arrival and I took advantage of this to peer closer. As I suspected the focus of their attention was Ettersberg.

“Has he told you yet about the time he took out two tanks?” I asked, perfectly innocently.

Nightingale straightened up and gave me a look that suggested I'd be ears deep in Latin translation before the end of the night.

“Impressive,” Varvara said. “I had heard rumours of course, but I never expected them to prove so accurate.”

“We were just discussing strategy,” Nightingale said, as if I might suspect him of something far more nefarious. “And the Russian's approach to it in their training.”

“I see,” I replied, holding back a grin. “All work....”

“There's fresh tea in the pot,” Nightingale said, interrupting me with an exasperated expression on his face. “I would love a refill.” And he handed me his teacup.

I laughed and fetched it for him, as well as a fresh one for Varvara. After about ten minutes of my respectful silence they fell back into their previous conversation. It wasn't like Nightingale to open up about his war experiences and it didn't take me long to realise that he wasn't doing anything of the sort – Varvara was telling him all about the Russian offensive and he was barely saying a word except to quietly prompt her to continue the conversation. It was a masterclass in interrogation and I tried to soak in as much of it as I was able.

* * * * *

We all got to see Nightingale in action a lot quicker than we were expecting when the next day, on our way to take Varvara back to prison, a car jumped a red light and smashed into our car (the Asbo, thankfully) and had us careening over the pavement and towards the wall of a bank until Nightingale raised his hand and with a quick, sharp, perfectly calculated use of force and precision, had us stopping, inches from the wall.

“Is everybody all right?” he asked, even as I was nodding and calling for backup on the radio.

“That was deliberate,” Varvara said, looking remarkably calm given the circumstances.

“Indeed. Stay here.”

Nightingale got out of the car and I quickly did the same, though I had to use the window, the other car trapping my door closed. People were already running over to help both us and the driver of the other car, who shocked several people by climbing out of his seat, crawling over the back and smashing the back window out before legging it down the road. I considered running after him but a couple of quick thinking uniforms were already on the case and by then I'd spotted the large delivery van speeding straight at us.

I think I said something, or at least shouted for everyone to get out of the way but the van was barrelling along at such a speed that the sound of its approach was all I could hear. And then Nightingale did what I really wished he wouldn't, and stepped directly into its path.

Varvara jumped out of the car and grabbed my arm - “Can't you stop him?” she shouted, but I just shook my head and she kept on holding on to my arm, hard enough that I'd still be wearing the bruises over a fortnight later.

Nightingale had his walking stick in his hand and was standing ramrod straight as the van continued on its course, the driver never once attempting to apply the brake. And then, just at the perfect moment Nightingale slammed his stick down onto the road and the force of his magic knocked me, Varvara and thirty-eight other people off their feet. Then the road buckled, flipped and seemed, as I scrambled up to my knees, to become alive for a fleeting moment before creating a cradle in which the van safely came to a stop.

Movies tell you that at this point everything goes silent and the world slowly rights itself, birds begin to sing and everyone lives happily ever after.

Movies lie.

The screams of the witnesses of this admittedly impressive piece of magic were only drowned out by the honking of the cars, and the shouts of the driver of the van who was now attempting to throw fireballs at Nightingale's head. I was on my feet straight away and managed to deflect at least two of them before Varvara finished off by freezing the man in place, literally covering his feet in icicles that took Dr Walid a considerable amount of time to save from amputation. Varvara's excuse was that she'd never had to learn how to defrost anyone. Nightingale had pointed out that in Newtonian teaching you always learn how to reverse the damage you've done, but only out of her earshot.

“Peter, Varvara, are you unhurt?”

I took a deep breath and nodded – all my limbs felt like they were still attached, I'd worry about the bruises later.

“I'm perfectly well, thanks to your quick thinking,” Varvara said. She reverently touched the upturned road and pressed her face close to it, her eyes closed tight.

“Are you all right?” I asked Nightingale, ignoring Varvara for the moment. Physically Nightingale looked fine but he was gripping on to his walking stick very tightly and I had the distinct impression that a strong wind was all it was going to take to knock him right over.

“I've been better,” Nightingale admitted, almost in a whisper and with a concerned look over at Varvara who still seemed completely entranced by the road.

That was enough of an admission that I immediately reassessed my impression and began to check him over, ignoring his muted protestations safe in the knowledge that he didn't have the strength to fight me off until I pressed against his side and he hissed, and bit back a curse.

“Broken?” I asked.

“Just bruised, I imagine,” Nightingale said, moving a few steps away from me.

“Dr Walid will be thrilled to hear it,” I replied and Nightingale at least looked a little sheepish before moving off towards one of the DCI's we'd worked with before who'd just arrived, part of the massive police response which was bearing down on us, including several armed units; rather him than me I thought and then stuck close to Varvara until she'd given her preliminary statement and we were given permission to leave in order to deliver her back to prison.

“You saved my life,” she said, just as we were saying our goodbyes. “Thank you.” She followed this up by pressing a kiss to Nightingale's cheek, which definitely would have turned into something more if he'd only turned his head, which he didn't. Instead he muttered a response and moved awkwardly away to the car.

“Look after him, won't you?” she said to me.

“I try,” I replied, remembering that I still had to somehow drive him to a hospital for x-rays without him realising what I was doing until it was too late. Varvara just smiled and then pressed a quick kiss to my cheek and waved towards Nightingale before she headed back into her present home.

I got back into the car (a borrowed panda) and checked my reflection in the rear view mirror – as I suspected I had a large red lipstick mark on my cheek. Nightingale handed me a handkerchief before I had to ask.

“Thanks,” I said, noticing that he had a red cheek himself where he'd gone through the same removal process. “So, am I doing this the easy way or the hard way?”

Nightingale leaned back into his seat and smiled as his eyes drifted close. “If it makes you feel better you can certainly drive me to the nearest hospital.”

“That bad?” I asked sympathetically.

“Not as bad as being shot,” he replied. “But not far off.” He opened one eye, no doubt alerted by my alarmed silence. “Modern medicine is a wonderful thing and I look forward to taking full advantage of it.”

“Right,” I replied, pulling out of the car park. “Just so long as you explain to Dr Walid why you didn't stay at the scene to be examined.”

“I'm starting to wonder why I have an apprentice at all,” he said with a smile, “aren't you supposed to take all the hard jobs off my hands?”

“I think that's what you've got Varvara for,” I replied with a cheeky grin and he laughed outright then.

“She's a very impressive wizard in her own right,” he said, “but I do wish she wouldn't be quite so demonstrative.”

“How's this sound then?” I asked. “I have a word with Varvara and you promise to get treated for medical emergencies as soon as they happen?”

Nightingale looked over at me suspiciously, trying to work out whether or not I'd be able to hold up my side of the bargain before finally nodding and relaxing back into his seat. “Very well,” he said. “You have yourself a deal.”

“Good,” I replied.

And then spent the entire drive to the hospital, the time in the waiting room, the time in the X-ray Department and the drive to take Nightingale back to the Folly trying to work out just exactly how I was going to pull that off.

In the end I did the only sensible thing – I asked Beverley.  



End file.
